


Accursed

by Jenshih_Blue



Series: Abaddon - Queen of Hell [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Season/Series 09, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon wants nothing more than to crush those responsible for destroying her home, but she cannot shake one thing from her mind…Dean Winchester. After weeks of foiling Crowley’s contracts not giving a damn about anything other than her mission, Abaddon is shocked to discover that while she wasn’t looking a war erupted. Not surprising Dean is at the center of the maelstrom of feathers and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accursed

**Author's Note:**

> Because of some encouragement from certain people I decided to write this follow-up to my one shot Abaddon and Dean fic "One Hot Mess" which you can find here as well. I've upped the ante here as you can tell by the rating. Here's hoping readers will enjoy the slow seduction of Dean Winchester...

  
Weeks had swept by as if mere seconds, but then time flowed in a different way for demons than for humans. Not to mention Abaddon had been a busy fucking bee and enjoying the hell (pun intended) out of herself by her meticulous destruction of every damned thing Crowley had done since he’d taken over Hell in her absence. The wee fucking cockroach had made a mess of Hell and all it represented. She recalled when even demons feared Hell and longed to escape its blood drenched, bony clutches, but now it was nothing. The DMV was more terrifying than Hell.  
  
Crowley had tried to weasel his way back into her good graces, but she laughed in his face. He was furious and predicted her way would be the destruction not the salvation of Hell. As if he knew what was best for Hell? He was a fucking bureaucrat, a contract writer, and nothing more. To think for two seconds he believed he had the faintest notion of what he was doing was hilarious.  
  
She continued as she had deconstructing the mess he’d created, but there were moments when she found herself distracted, her mind adrift. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the single thing that occupied those moments…Dean Winchester. It boggled her mind. Yes, he was on her top ten list of pests to take out, yet it was more than that. She’d witnessed the darkness hidden beneath his skin, stared into his eyes, seen it skim across their green-hued depths and it intrigued her. It also bugged the shit out of her that a simple human could distract her so easily.  
  
Okay, so maybe Dean wasn’t simple. As she’d cleaned up Crowley’s massive mess she’d uncovered things she’d never imagined about the Winchester brothers. Both of them were as she’d learned quite quick messes on par with Crowley’s vision of Hell. Dean though was far more fucked than Sam for whom he seemed willing to do or sacrifice anything. It wasn’t simply his time in Hell at the tender mercies of Alastair (now he had been an exquisite artist of demonic intent) or even coming close to death at the hands of his own brother who’d said yes to Lucifer. It was the consensus among the denizens of Hell, long before any of that particular shit hit the fan Dean Winchester seemed screwed nine ways to Sunday.  
  
Not surprising Abaddon imagined. She took great pride in believing partial credit belonged to her considering she’d been the cause of Dean’s precious daddy growing up under the delusion of his daddy Henry’s abandonment. So, it held to reason the last man who needed to procreate was John Winchester a man who had no idea what being a father was in the first place in her humble opinion. Mix in the fact that neither John nor his beloved Mary had the faintest clue how much Heaven had creamed itself trying to get them together. Even Hell had a bloody orgasm over that, but why get involved when Heaven was doing all the footwork.  
  
***  
  
As days passed and Abaddon bored of shredding contracts, collecting souls, and gutting the last Crowley holdouts in Hell she discovered her thoughts drifting back to that single delicious moment when she’d seen the truth about Dean in his eyes. She began watching the comings and goings of the Winchesters with a keen eye. There was no need for her to leave Hell to do so. The Winchesters were well aware of the phone calls demons could make using even the smallest amount of human blood. Of course, neither of them realized if a demon was powerful enough (such as her) and possessed the right ingredients as well as a sufficient quantity of blood they could create what she liked to refer to as a one- way video call.  
  
On her down time, Abaddon would watch the brothers and what exquisite secrets she learned. One of those was how her bid to kill them had failed. Dean had snarled at the time that they’d brought backup of course, she’d discovered it was a lie. It was apparent now what Sam had been up to in that abandoned church months ago. Crowley hadn’t lied to her surprise. They’d been attempting to close the gates to Hell forever. However, in some desperate attempt to save his brother she imagined, Dean had stopped Sam before he could finish the final trial whatever that had been. That kind of loyalty was difficult to come by especially among the sniveling black-eyed second class bitches of Hell. Crowley would have been surprised how quick the pathetic upstarts had turned on him the moment she’d shown up in all her wicked glory.  
  
She’d clapped her hands in delight when she discovered Sam was the walking dead and only remained breathing because an angel was wearing him like a cheap suit. Not that she cared about Sam. Because of him, this exquisite body ended up roasted like a marshmallow on a stick. That had been a pain in the ass to rectify and now she discovered he was the unwitting meat suit of a feathered heavenly rat. Irritation aside, Abaddon filed this juicy tidbit away for further consideration.  
  
***  
  
It was a few weeks later, when one of her handpicked foot soldiers arrived with news that Abaddon realized she’d missed something bigger than her plans for Hell. Well, maybe not bigger, but it was big enough she should have noticed. The foot soldier explained how the angels, betrayed by one of their own were flung from Heaven. This wasn’t unknown, yet two things had escaped her attention. Two factions of angels had arisen and now were busy murdering one another in an attempt to take back Heaven, although how they imagined they would get back in was a mystery. The thing that caught her attention though was who had discovered themselves in the middle of the mess of blood and feathers.  
  
Dean Winchester, the man she had plans for and the single person she had no desire to see dead.  
  
The soldier also informed her, the prophet who Crowley had been chasing for two years was dead by the hands of the very angel who was wearing Sam Winchester. She’d dismissed the soldier with a wave of her hand and a shot of hellfire to the ass, unable to believe that last nugget. Well, if you wanted the truth sometimes you had to see for yourself.  
  
***  
  
Difficult was not how she would have described her attempts to find Dean, neigh on impossible was how she would describe the hunt. And when she discovered him it was as if he’d appeared out of nowhere, a quick pop in the ether only angels or demons could normally do. It was then she realized Dean and his brother had discovered the last remaining stronghold of the Men of Letters; a bunker warded against everything including herself. That had to be the answer. They’d known their shit when it came to powerful magic say what you might about the arrogant bastards. Perhaps, if they’d been less full of their own self-importance and shared their knowledge with the world a great deal of what had happened in the past might not have happened. They might have also survived instead of dying out. Not that Abaddon missed the never-ending chase…She didn’t.  
  
She’d zeroed in on Dean and when she landed, so to speak, it was in the middle of a desolate forest off the beaten path. Dean’s scent wafted to her on the chill autumn breeze and left the taste of despair and human anguish in the back of her throat. She tracked the scent straight to him, the familiar scent of burning human flesh welcoming her.  
  
Dean stood in a small clearing in front of him a pyre of flames consuming the wrapped body of who she could only imagine was the dead prophet. Then it was true. The prophet was dead.  
  
It was when she got a clearer view of Dean as she slipped through the trees she feared she might be too late. He seemed not himself. His clothes were filthy and stank, face covered in what appeared to be at least a week’s worth of beard. Head bowed he seemed to be mumbling beneath his breath, voice so low it was impossible to decipher his words. Everything she understood about what he’d gone through both on Earth and in Hell and he’d survived. Yet this had broken his mind in a way Alastair could have only dreamed of accomplishing.  
  
An ache grew in Abaddon’s chest. If she’d been human perhaps, she would have shed a tear. Instead, she was furious. This was unacceptable. Dean was hers to break and hers alone. She was willing to admit this to herself. To witness this shell of a man who had such potential only fueled her fury. How dare that winged rat of Heaven (whoever he might be) take her king from her? She’d had plans for him. Plans that would have lifted him into a state of importance few of the human race ever reached.  
  
She travelled across the space that separated them on a swirl of sulfuric wind appearing behind him a few feet. Eyes narrowing she drew closer when he seemed not to notice. Her right hand lifted, hovering just above his shoulder and he still didn’t move. Slowly she lowered her hand, firelight flashing off her blood red nails, and dug them deep into the flesh of his shoulder.  
  
“Go ahead and kill me, Abaddon. Just make it quick.” He leaned back against her body, eyes lifted to the twilight sky, and released a ragged breathe.  
  
She trailed her fingertip along his collarbone beneath the stained cotton of his tee shirt. “Whatever makes you think I’m here to kill you, Dean?” She leaned forward breathe hot against his ear.  
  
“Isn’t that what you do when a horse goes lame? Put a bullet between its eyes.”  
  
“Is that what you think? That you’re a horse to be led away to the slaughter.”  
  
“Yes.” He choked out.  
  
Stepping around his body, her hand slid down his arm, long fingers curling around his wrist. “You’re a fool if you believe that’s all you are…You are so much more.”  
  
“Really?” he snarled the pyre’s light reflected in his pupils. “If I’m so much more then why is Kevin dead? Why is my brother gone?”  
  
Abaddon raised one eyebrow in surprise. Had Dean said his brother was gone? Had the angel who murdered the prophet allowed Sam to die at some point and then simply inhabit his body? Did he use his memories to keep up the charade Sam was still there? She knew demons were capable of such things, but an angel capable of them was unthinkable.  
  
“Your brother is gone?” she asked.  
  
For the first time since she’d entered the forest and laid eyes on Dean he showed something other than despair. It caused a tingle to glide down Abaddon’s spine. He was angry. No, infuriated was the better word choice.  
  
“Yes, you heard me you bitch!” Dean screamed hands fisted at his sides nails leaving bloody crescents in the meatiest part of his palms. “So, kill me the fuck already and quit with the third degree.”  
  
Whatever emotional maelstrom she’d stirred up in Dean’s gut began to fade, but it didn’t matter. She was pleased he was still alive inside there somewhere. The man who demons whispered of in the darkest corners of Hell existed behind the veil of failure and grief. Alastair’s star pupil, breaker of the first Seal, killer of angels, and he who gave his love so free his brother overpowered Lucifer himself.  
  
With two quick strides, she grabbed Dean. She drew their bodies together, fingers digging into his scalp until he hissed and then she did the one thing he hadn’t expected…Abaddon kissed him.  
  
He struggled against her grip at first and then he melted into it. His lips parted in acceptance, low desperate moan escaping, and a faint tremor in his limbs. Abaddon was pleased as punch and showed her pleasure by tasting the inside of his mouth with a quick swipe of her forked tongue. He let her delve into every corner of his shredded soul with that kiss. He no longer cared about right or wrong, there was nothing left to fight for in this world.  
  
Kevin was dead.  
  
Sammy was gone.  
  
And the fallen angels had brought Hell on the Earth with their selfish bid for control.  
  
He moaned again as her free hand slid down, fingers curling around his cock as it stirred beneath its denim prison. Since his return from Hell, he’d known in some dark corner of his mind he would end up giving into the lascivious embrace of evil incarnate. Sam had been his touchstone and then Kevin when he’d joined their cause. He’d lost everything now…Except this.  
  
Abaddon’s nails trailed down his spine, drawing blood in their wake, but the pain wasn’t enough. When he’d been in Hell his torturer, Alastair, had seen to that. Pain had become the only thing he knew and with it, every pleasure twisted or otherwise Hell had to offer. He’d tried to deny it, hide it, but it was there lingering in the shadows of his mind.  
  
All these things, Abaddon saw in her mind as she ground the heel of her hand against his crotch, felt his cock swell with blood, and strain against her touch. His moans were music to her ears and she felt her vessel react as any normal woman would have reacted to the sights and sounds. Between her thighs, she felt the first surge of moisture, the tingle of each nerve as they were set on fire by desire. Her nipples hardened as the heat spread outward and she smiled against Dean’s full lush lips.  
  
She continued the kiss, his beard rubbing against her milky skin until it burned and her other hand slid around to open the fly of his jeans. Reaching inside his pants, she pulled his erection free of its prison, stroking, and as she did the volume of Dean’s cries grew. She thumbed the tip, switching hands and lifting her fingers as she broke the kiss, sucking the pre-cum from their tips.  
  
“Exquisite…” she growled, eyes going black.  
  
As her eyes shifted, two things happened. Dean came harder than he ever had in his life and an unwelcome visitor appeared.  
  
“Let him go you, bitch!”  
  
She looked up eyes black as pitch and smiled. “Sorry, you missed the show, Castiel.” Her forked tongue darting out across ruby lips, the wind stirring her flowing red hair.  
  
“I said…” Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Let him go.” He lifted the silver blade in his hand, mystical metal reflecting the dying flames of Kevin’s pyre.  
  
Smile widening, Abaddon raised one eyebrow in amusement. “You really should taste him…exquisite. Accursed souls always are the most delicious.”  
  
In a swirl of sulfur and ash, she vanished with a wink, Dean collapsing in a heap on the ground. Castiel stood silent for a moment and then crossed to where Dean lay. He tried to ignore the condition of his friend while returning his dignity as quick as possible.  
  
He reached out to stroke Dean’s cheek gently. “Dean, what have you done?” he whispered as he lifted Dean into his arms with ease. “Whatever it is…” he glanced at the dying fire, “We will make it right.”  
  
***  
  
From the trees, Abaddon watched as Castiel vanished with Dean and snorted. Who would have thought? Could an angel have naughty thoughts about a human or was she simply being jealous?  
  
Whatever the answer it would be interesting finding out.  
  
  
  
The End (?)


End file.
